


it's a terrible love

by apricotsun



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I think?, Post-lawsuit, and I love junmyeon, not really any ships they're just one big sad really affectionate family, protect that man, teen and up bc I used like 1 swear, this fic is basically junmyeon being The Best Mum, yeah so I love dying and being dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8355859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apricotsun/pseuds/apricotsun
Summary: By now, Junmyeon is familiar with the way they grieve - he knows how to look after them better now. He’s no expert, and he’s still knocked breathless by how utterly helpless he so often feels, but it is better.He hopes it’s better.





	

Loss is the strangest thing.

It’s like a snowflake, or a thumb print. Different every single time, different for every person. Junmyeon knows how each member feels loss, how they grieve. He knows their pain like he knows each of the criss-cross fault lines on his palms.

Lately, it’s been a pattern. Loss, hurt, better, rinse and repeat. Junmyeon had thought it was bad the first time, that loss, but then again, he’d also thought that there would only be one loss.

It feels like they’ve been shoved into some sort of monstrous washing machine, stuck on an eternal spin cycle of confusion and anger and sadness. Junmyeon knows that there is a better metaphor for this, but he’s too tired to put in the extra thought.

Junmyeon thinks a lot these days, about how he can be a better leader. Every morning he wakes up and makes a cup of green tea - he read somewhere the other day that the antioxidants in it improve all sorts of things, and self improvement seems to be at the forefront of his mind at the moment. So he sits with his tea, in the early quiet of the dorm, and he makes lists, catalogues. He may be the messiest member, but he does like lists - likes that semblance of order and structure.

He makes lists of what needs to be done that day, lists of the people he needs to thank in his next speech. There’s a special sort of comfort that comes from arranging one’s thoughts, Junmyeon thinks as he mentally organises their meal plan for the week, who’ll cook and who’ll get the groceries. It helps him, to make sense of things in his mind when everything else is so chaotic; he likes to think that it helps him to be a better leader. Lately, he’s taken to observing the members, jotting down details about them, preserving them in his mind.

( _Just in case_ , the voice in the back of his head whispers.)

He has taught himself to recognise each member’s hurt before it’s too late - it’s not that he blames himself, really he doesn’t, but prevention is better than cure, he supposes. The first time round, their first loss, he had floundered. He hadn’t known what the hell he was doing, couldn’t figure out how to make it better. That was their job as leaders, of course, to make things better. Except all of a sudden it was just him, and he didn’t know how help everyone to be happy again on his own. By now, Junmyeon is familiar with the way they grieve - he knows how to look after them better now. He knows he’s no expert, and he’s still knocked breathless by how utterly helpless he so often feels, but it is better.

He hopes it’s better.

 

~•~

 

The members like to spoil Sehun - their maknae, their baby - they like to buy him treats and scratch his head until he purrs. Joonmyun scolds the members for this - “Don’t spoil him! He’ll turn into a selfish brat!” - but they all ignore him because everyone knows that Junmyeon pampers Sehun the most, pampers everyone the most.

Junmyeon likes to indulge people, and Sehun suits being indulged. He craves attention, perching himself on the kitchen bench when Chanyeol is cooking and demanding to be fed morsels of whatever’s being prepared, and Chanyeol simply can’t say no. None of them can say no to Sehun, and they laugh about their pushy, princely maknae, but he’s never ungrateful.

Despite his teasing complaints, he’s quick to return favours, eager to help out where he can, tucking his head into the crook of Junmyeon’s neck, whispering a soft “thank you, hyung” every time.

Sehun loves being pampered, but he hates being pitied, and Junmyeon can’t understand it because surely they’re of the same vein? Surely there’s not that much difference?

Apparently Junmyeon’s wrong.

Apparently, there’s a big difference.

Jongin explains that it’s because Sehun doesn’t want to look vulnerable, doesn’t want to be a burden.

“He doesn’t want to be seen as the whiny maknae, hyung.”

“But he _is_ the whiny maknae, Jongin.” Junmyeon cards his fingers through his hair, exasperated, overwhelmed, and Jongin chuckles a little, shaking his head.  
“It’s different.”

“How?” Jongin pauses, worries his lip as he thinks.

“It’s like how Kyungsoo punches us when we make stupid jokes, but holds our hands and makes us hot chocolate when we’re actually upset, you know? Like, Soo’s not actually violent. Not really. Not when it matters, anyway.”

Junmyeon gets it, now. Sehun doesn’t mind playing the role of the spoilt prince, but when it matters, he won’t show any sign of vulnerability. Won’t let anyone in. Sehun builds up walls when it matters. He builds enormous walls of grey brick, barbed wire protruding menacingly from the top, and Junmyeon has lost count of the amount of times he’s fallen off trying to climb these walls, the amount of times he’s been pushed away.

Junmyeon’s heart aches, when Sehun refuses to meet his eyes, anyone’s eyes. When he tucks himself into the back corner of the van, earphones jammed in and hoodie pulled tight around his head, impossibly long legs tucked up to create one more barrier between him and the rest of the world.

There’s no way of breaking down these barriers, these gargantuan walls. Sehun’s incredibly strong, and incredibly stubborn, and although it’s the most frustrating, torturous thing in the world to not be able to help his maknae, he’s secretly a little bit proud of Sehun’s resolution, secretly envies his strength. Junmyeon mentions this to Kyungsoo, that he’s sort of proud, and Kyungsoo looks at him like he’s just killed his favourite pot plant.

(Junmyeon wants to take it back, later, when the only words Sehun has said to any of them for over a week are “I’m fine, hyung, just leave me alone for once”. Junmyeon isn’t proud anymore, he’s desperate)

Junmyeon wants to bulldoze these walls, crush the bricks into smithereens and crush the smithereens to dust. He wants to push aside the rubble and draw Sehun into his arms, wants to rub away the dust to find that self-assured, spoilt prince again.

Instead, he waits, until Sehun’s ready to take down the walls himself, waits until Sehun tucks his head back into the crook of Junmyeon’s neck.

 

~•~

 

Jongin scares him, the first time Junmyeon sees him _really_ upset.

They’d just had their first casualty - all eleven of them reeling from the sudden, sickening loss. Junmyeon remembers the silence that had fallen over the dorms like a thick fog, remembers wanting so badly to scream, but knowing that if he did he would be opening the floodgates.

If silence was how they were going to deal with it, silence was how Junmyeon would deal with it.

A week later though, he’d stumbled into a practice room to find Jongin.

Sweet, warm, ray-of-absolute-sunshine Jonginnie, curled up in the corner, weeping.

Jongin’s hurt is a tsunami, a hurricane - he leaves Junmyeon breathless, paralysed - heaving sobs and wet, choking denial. He howls, and Junmyeon would make a _Wolf_ joke, but the whole situation is so _not_ funny that he feels like he could throw up.

Jongin’s grief is tumultuous, the sort of crying you see in particularly good films, the sort of crying that makes _you_ want to cry, even if you’re not saddened by the film, the sort of crying that wins people Oscars.

Except Jongin isn’t acting, and God Junmyeon wishes he was. He wishes for Jongin to suddenly stop sobbing and look up at him, eyes sparkling, “I got you hyung!”.

He wouldn’t mind if all the members laughed at him then, for falling for Jongin’s silly prank. He wouldn’t even mind when they laughed about it on radio and variety shows - Chanyeol on all fours, wheezing and slapping the ground, Baekhyun’s delicate features twisted in an imitation of their leader’s pinched, worried expression.

Junmyeon wants to cover his ears like a child, scream for Jongin to _just be quiet_ because he can’t bear to see his bandmate like this, can’t bear to see his friend like this.

For a moment, he imagines putting his hand over Jongin’s mouth, _wants_ to put his hand over Jongin’s mouth, because maybe that would stop his cries forever and he’d be okay again.

But he doesn’t, he can’t. He’s scared that if he does he’ll have trapped Jongin’s sadness inside him forever.

Junmyeon doesn’t know how long he stands there for. Eventually, when Jongin’s sobs have subsided into breathless, snuffling hiccups, Junmyeon sits down beside him, thigh to thigh, arm to arm. He takes hold of the younger man’s hand, rubs slow, soothing circles into his skin, wishes he could do more.

“Hyung…”  
“Jonginnie?”

“Is he really… he's not…”

“I'm sorry.”  
Jongin takes a deep, shuddering breath, rests his head on Junmyeon’s shoulder.

“Okay.”

Junmyeon’s heart hurts.

 

~•~

 

“You know when you’re lying in a bath, and you’ve been in there for a while?”

“Soo, what-”

“Just listen, hyung. You know when you’re lying in a bath, and you’ve been in there for a while?”

“I guess?”

“And suddenly you realise that the water’s cold, and you’re shivering, but you can’t bring yourself to get out because you’ll be even colder when you do. So you just lie there in the cold water, trembling for a while, thinking about getting up but not actually doing anything?”  
“Uh, yeah?”  
“That’s how I’m feeling.”

This is what Kyungsoo had told Junmyeon as he added spices to the curry paste, Junmyeon feeling sort of useless, relegated to vegetable chopping duty so he didn’t blow up the kitchen or whatever.

That’s what Kyungsoo had said when Junmyeon had asked “are you okay?”.

It’d been a particularly rough day - practice was gruelling, but that was no different than usual. An article had been published, blaming EXO’s ‘bullying’ of certain members for the departures.

 _“Bullshit...”_ Junmyeon thinks bitterly, slicing a carrot so aggressively that Kyungsoo had shuffled away slightly. He’d told the members a million times that that hadn’t been it, that it wasn’t their fault, they couldn’t have done anything to stop it, but the thought had spread like dandelion seeds on a breeze, except not pretty. Ugly. Spreading. Bothersome.

It was the first real confrontation, the first explosion since Suho had sat them all down and said “He’s not coming back, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” for the third goddamn time. The first time he’d had to tell them, Kyungsoo had been quiet. Whilst the others had stormed off to be alone, curled up and cried in desperation, Kyungsoo just sat there. Hands folded delicately in his lap, eyes trained on the polished wooden floor (dry eyes, thank god). Poised. Dignified.

Junmyeon had, if he was being totally honest, ignored Kyungsoo at first, because _“Kyungsoo is always quiet”_ so that meant he was okay. He had other members to look after, members who needed their tears wiped and shoulders rubbed. He’d assumed Kyungsoo was fine, and moved on.

(Later, Junmyeon would wonder why he hadn’t asked Kyungsoo if he was okay sooner.)

But all that time later, that article, that poisonous, glorified gossip, had all of them on their feet, yelling and angry. They were all furious, pent up emotions bursting forth, a maelstrom of tears and shouting. And Kyungsoo, again, had just sat there. Quiet.

Junmyeon hadn’t really noticed how tired Kyungsoo looked until that very moment.

“I feel cold, hyung. But I don’t remember the specific moment when I became cold.” He paused, gently stirred the curry, chuckled. “Sorry if that’s really cryptic.”

Later, after dinner, they all pretended that they hadn’t seen a fat tear roll down Kyungsoo’s cheek as he'd washed the dishes.

 

~•~

 

Seeing Chanyeol truly upset is one of the most awful things Junmyeon has ever seen.

He can deal with Jongin’s loud agony, Kyungsoo’s quiet hurt, because Jongin has always been emotional and Kyungsoo has always been a little bit reserved. When Chanyeol is sad, however, Junmyeon can barely meet his eyes.

On a regular day, Chanyeol’s like one of those goddamn bobo dolls - push him down and he’ll swing right back up again, over and over, laughing gleefully at the fun of the game.

He’s not one to take offence easily. Sometimes Junmyeon thinks he’s overstepped his bounds - made one too many jokes about Chanyeol’s enormous ears - and he’ll falter, peering at his giant bandmate in genuine concern, trying to gauge the damage. This just sends Chanyeol into fits of breathless laughter. He’ll wipe his eyes and pat Junmyeon on the head with an “ahhh, my tiny funny hyung!”, and Junmyeon will regret every bit of sympathy he’s ever held for his bandmate (but only for a moment).

Chanyeol rarely gets sad, but when he does it’s horrible because he pretends he’s okay.

He’s a good actor but a horrible, awful liar, so they all see right through it, but no one has the heart to tell Chanyeol that. He’ll come out to breakfast with eyes rimmed red - from crying or lack of sleep or both, none of them know for sure - and offer them all a grin, but it’s wrong. It’s all tight and wobbly and it doesn’t reach his eyes.

 _This isn’t Chanyeol,_ screams the voice in Junmyeon’s head. _It’s an imposter, get him out, his smile isn’t right._ Junmyeon wants to shake this imitation of his friend until the real Chanyeol comes back. But he doesn’t, and Chanyeol continues being this horrible, empty shell, cracking jokes that fall flat every time because who does he think he’s kidding?

_No one’s falling for this, you bastard._

Junmyeon knows that Chanyeol isn’t trying to convince _him_ that he’s okay, nor is he trying to convince any of the other members. Chanyeol’s trying to trick himself into believing that he’s okay, and that makes Junmyeon want to throw up.

 

~•~

 

Jongdae doesn’t get sad, he gets angry. Sweet, kind, fairy-like Jongdae gets so angry. He maintains that it’s ‘frustration’ and not ‘anger’, but Jongdae is petulant when he’s frustrated.

This isn’t petulant.

This is eyes like coal and a clenched jaw and a refusal to touch anyone. It’s poorly concealed eye-rolls and words soaked in venom, and Junmyeon can’t believe that his gentle, playful friend could be this cold.

One day Jongdae snaps at Jongin. Junmyeon doesn’t see the start, or the middle, but he does see Jongin hurriedly leave the practice room, mumbling something about coming “right back”, eyes wet and lip trembling. Junmyeon glances around the room at everyone pretending they’re minding their own business except Jongdae, who looks tense enough to snap. He catches Baekhyun’s eye and the other grimaces, eyes gesturing pointedly between Jongdae and the general direction of Jongin’s tearful escape.

Junmyeon gives the other members one of his Patented Leader Looks™, - specifically, the ‘Please Everyone Get The Fuck Out K Thanks Bye’ - makes sure that there’s someone going to find Jongin and hold his hand, and when everyone has finally left he turns to Jongdae.

He clears his throat. Jongdae flinches, but doesn’t turn to face his leader.

Stubborn asshole.

Junmyeon lets out a sigh.

“So.”

“So.”

Jongdae is sitting on the floor, knees tucked up against his chest, back facing Junmyeon. He’s panting hard from the interrupted dance practice, and Junmyeon sits down with him, his own back pressed against Jongdae’s, and waits for Jongdae’s breathing to slow, settle before he continues.

“What did he do?”  
“Nothing.”

“Then why are you angry at him?”

“Jonginnie? Not him, hyung. Not Jonginnie. Just… I don’t know. Everything? Me?”

His laugh is tinny, hollow. Junmyeon wants to hit him, wants to punch him so hard that Jongdae lets out that familiar, signature whine. Junmyeon can deal with whining. He doesn’t want to deal with this.

“Dae… We’re all...”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m- I’m trying.” Voice cracking, he dashes his eyes furiously.

Junmyeon holds him tight, so that he doesn’t end up hitting him.

Junmyeon holds him tight, so that his heart doesn’t break.

 

~•~

 

They have a long drive ahead of them, all packed into vans and heading to a busy schedule in the early hours of the morning. It’s still dark, and Junmyeon wishes he could sneak in a hour or so of extra sleep like the others, but he can’t. Sleep isn’t coming easy at the moment, for any of them, so he’s glad the others are able to nod off.

Junmyeon is sandwiched between Chanyeol - who really shouldn’t be allowed to sit in the back, his legs are too long and his elbows too bony - and Baekhyun, who is curled up against Junmyeon, exhaling warm, gentle puffs against his neck.

Baekhyun is so tiny like this - Junmyeon knows he’s one centimetre shorter than the younger man, as much as he hates to admit it, but there’s something so delicate about Baekhyun that makes him forget about that. His hands are so slender, so doll-like. When he’s asleep like this, stripped of all his sparkling wit and charisma, he looks fragile. Breakable.

Junmyeon knows that Baekhyun is holding it all in - all his rage, all his sadness.

He recognises the signs, he sees how Baekhyun’s knuckles are white, sees the ugly, red, half-moon indents in his beautiful hands from where he has clenched his fists too hard. He notices Baekhyun’s lower lip chewed raw and the fingerpad-shaped bruises on his arms, his legs, from how he cradles himself too tight in his sleep. Sees the chewed hangnails, bleeding, raw. Stinging.

Junmyeon has noticed how silent their mornings are, now that Baekhyun no longer screeches Girls Generation songs every morning, horribly off-key and impressively loud, _just_ to piss them all off. More than once, Junmyeon has thought about doing it in Baekhyun’s stead - bursting into each room, jumping on the beds of his sleeping bandmates, shrieking the lyrics to _‘Gee’_ into their ears as loud as he can muster.

It wouldn't be the same though, so he doesn't.

They drive over a speedbump and Baekhyun shifts, lifts his head, blinking slowly at Junmyeon.

“Hey hyung.”  
“You can sleep, Baek, I don’t mind.” A slow, lazy smile spreads across Baekhyun’s features, and Junmyeon wants to curl up like a cat and bask in its warmth. He’s missed Baekhyun’s smiles.

“Nah, I’m good.” All the same, Baekhyun tucks his head back into the crook of Junmyeon’s neck, nuzzling softly, and Junmyeon chuckles under his breath.

They sit in silence, letting the tide of the sleeping members’ heavy, steady breathing wash over them. Junmyeon watches the streetlamps outside fly past, flickers of light extinguished in a moment as the car keeps moving. Junmyeon thinks there might be a metaphor to be found in that, some sort of underlying symbolism - the sort that leads to epiphanies. But the meaning flutters out of his grasp, dances in front of him before disappearing, and Junmyeon can’t help but feel a little bit cheated.

He’s still pondering this when he feels the muscles in Baekhyun’s arm shift against his own, feels a slender hand slide into his own, feels the hand grip his tight.

Junmyeon squeezes back, gently, lets his thumb trace patterns onto Baekhyun’s skin as the tension in the younger man’s shoulders lessens, dissipates.

 

~•~

 

Yixing has perfected the art of looking as if he’s on another planet, so disguising his grief is much better than Chanyeol’s attempt. Soft, sleepy smiles and distant gazes. Droopy eyes. Gentle giggles. Usual Yixing stuff.

Except Junmyeon has heard him, late at night when he thinks they’re all asleep (as if they could sleep, not with the three beds empty).

He’s heard Yixing calling his grandparents and hiccuping softly in thick, wet Chinese - _“I love you, I miss you, I’m working hard”_. Junmyeon, sheets abandoned at the foot of his bed, pitches and tosses listening to this. He knows how tired Yixing is from all his extra travelling, how this is so much harder for him because he’s the only Chinese member left now.

Yixing lets people in so easy. His heart is open to everyone and anyone, and Junmyeon is so jealous of this warmth that Yixing radiates that makes everyone love him so very much.

Junmyeon’s not jealous, however, of the downsides of an open heart. He’s not jealous of the loneliness when others leave.

That’s why - Junmyeon tells himself - he pads softly to where Yixing sits curled up at one end of the couch, trying to make himself as small as possible, wraps himself around the other man. Strokes his hair and whispers broken attempts at comforting Chinese - _"It's okay, It's not your fault, I've got you"_ \- until Yixing drifts into sleep, still sniffling, but with the furrow between his eyebrows slightly smoother.

It’s not that he loves Yixing more than the others, Junmyeon doesn’t play favourites, the members know this. Junmyeon loves all of them so much that it scares him - it’s as if there are glowing embers in his chest, burning, constant. He’ll protect them forever, he knows. Anyone is Junmyeon’s favourite, so long as they let him protect them, look after them. Yixing is just particularly good at being looked after.

Junmyeon stays with Yixing on the sofa all night, one hand cradling his head, the other rubbing soft circles into his back, gently massaging Yixing’s troublesome waist. It’s worth it in the morning, cramped legs and stiff neck, if Yixing smiles sleepily, slowly at him.

Junmyeon thinks that maybe they should pull out all the mattresses into the main area of the dorm again, like they used to when they first debuted. He doesn’t want to try and return to that time, that’s impossible now, but he would like to remember how it felt.

He wishes he could remember how it felt.  

 

~•~

 

Minseok bickers with him over bottles of soju about who should be looking after the other.

“I’m your hyung, Junmyeonnie, it’s disrespectful if you don’t let me.”  
“But as EXO’s leader it’s my duty-”  
“Screw _duty_ , I’m an old man. Listen to me you brat.”

“Well I’m a brat, listen to me you old man.” They laugh, the alcohol making them loose, easy. For the first time in ages, Suho feels the weight on his shoulders shift a little.

Minseok is like that. Even when they weren’t the eldest two, even when there’d been two others to claim the title of ‘hyung line’, Junmyeon had always felt connected to Minseok, like they shared a common bond. Like whatever happened, he’d have Minseok.

“Maybe that was fate’s way of warning us.” Minseok replies thoughtfully. Junmyeon hadn’t realised he’d been thinking out loud, and silently thanks whoever’s listening that Minseok didn’t shove him for being such a sap.

“Fate?”  
“Mmm.”

“You believe in that?”

“What else can I believe in?” Junmyeon’s bottle halts just before it reaches his lips.

“That’s kinda morbid, hyung.” Minseok snorts, and now shoves him.

“No, but listen. It’s like you’ve been saying. There was nothing we could do. It was going to happen, whether we like it or not -” ( _or not_ , screams the voice in Junmyeon’s mind, _or not_ ) “- that sounds kinda like fate to me.”

Junmyeon pauses, absorbs, drinks.

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

It’s not a starry night, as they sit on the tiny balcony at their dorms, it’s really cloudy and dark. Junmyeon scours the sky, trying with all his might to find some glimpse of light, some hint of the moon or a star or something, _anything_ , but it’s so black. He can’t see anything.

“Are you okay with that?”

“Hmm?”

“That all this -” Junmyeon gestures aimlessly “- that all this is meant to be?”

Minseok pauses, stares at the empty sky. Junmyeon’s breath catches as the moon peeks out from behind a cloud and a slither of light dances across his hyung’s eyelashes, catches the tiny freckles peppered on his cheekbones. He shrugs, and the light shifts. The moon has disappeared again.

“They’re happier now, Junmyeonnie. I’m okay with that.” Junmyeon stills, heart squeezing with admiration and awe. He chuckles, a little breathless.

“You should drink more often, hyung. We like it when you talk this much.” Minseok’s eyes crinkle, grin.

They drink, and conversation fades for a while. Junmyeon is so caught up willing the moon to come back that he doesn’t notice Minseok staring at him, thoughtful.

“Junmyeon?”

“Mmm?”

“You okay?”

Junmyeon will later blame the soju for the way he pitches himself at Minseok, wrestles the elder into a tight embrace, buries his head into the other’s shoulder.

Minseok will pretend, in the morning, that he doesn’t remember the wet patch on his shoulder when Junmyeon had pulled away.

~•~

 

Junmyeon inhales the earthy scent of his tea steeping - warm, grounding. He tucks his feet beneath him as he sits on the couch, warm, gentle sunlight creeping through the windows.

He thinks of his members, the ones who have moved one, the ones still here. There’s no resentment anymore, how could there be? It’s better now. They’re all better now.

He’s memorised each of their smiles, he knows them by heart. Tired ones, through strained muscles after long rehearsals. Forced ones, when they’d really rather be anywhere but surrounded by cameras. Teasing ones, onstage, where they all tickle Kyungsoo as much as they can, darting away before he punches them. Junmyeon has tucked the genuine ones - unguarded, gummy, beautiful - safely away in his heart, he treasures them dearly.

Through the walls of the dorm, Junmyeon hears an ungodly screeching. It takes him a minute to realise it’s Baekhyun, and it takes him another minute after that to realise that he’s singing _‘I Got A Boy’_. He feels his heart swell, watches as Kyungsoo furiously chases Baekhyun out of his room and around the couch.

“You just don’t appreciate art Kyungsoo!”  
“I’ll appreciate art when it’s not _shrieking_ at me when I’m trying to sleep!”

“I don’t _shriek_!”

Junmyeon laughs as the rest of the members emerge; Sehun, Chanyeol and Jongdae joining chase, tackling Baekhyun to the ground as a vengeful Kyungsoo pummels him with tickles. Minseok and Yixing look on in baffled amusement, knowing grins spread across their faces, whilst Jongin drops down next to Junmyeon and beams sleepily at him before curling into his side and falling back to sleep.

Junmyeon brings his tea to his mouth, sips, lets the warm liquid course through his body, feels its heat spread.

It is better.

**Author's Note:**

> ok so I swear that I didn't mean to write 4k of fuckn aNGSt when I started this but it happened hahah woah.  
> this is like my first fic ever (excluding the crappy dramione one I wrote two chapters of when I was 12 help) so be gentle but comments/kudos are appreciated so much!  
> I might write a sequel to this but idk we'll see hahaha  
> title is from Terrible Love by The National - A+ angst song 10/10 would reccomend


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